


Domestic Bliss

by romanticalgirl



Series: Saving Grace [2]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Home, sweet home</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://hackthis.livejournal.com/profile)[**hackthis**](http://hackthis.livejournal.com/) and [](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/profile)[**alethialia**](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/) for beta duty. ::smooches:: A sequel/snippet of sorts to [The Easy Part's Over Now](http://romanticalgirl.livejournal.com/762609.html) and based on [this art](http://trolleys.fanizzle.org/bradpaper.jpg) by [](http://trolleys.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://trolleys.livejournal.com/)**trolleys**.
> 
> Originally posted 7-19-09

Brad’s not surprised when he wakes up and finds Grace sitting on the end of the bed. He and Nate learned quickly that morning sex wasn’t going to be possible so long as Grace is in the house. “Hey, LT.” He sits up and rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Where’s Uncle Nate?”

She looks toward the door where Nate’s standing. Nate nods once and Grace turns back to Brad and starts singing. “Hap’ birfday to ooooo.”

Brad clamps his lips together to keep from laughing as she goes all the way through the song. He doesn’t dare look at Nate. “Wow. When did you learn that?”

“Unca Nate teached me!”

“Did he?” Brad cocks an eyebrow at Nate who shrugs, failing to look innocent.

“Present, Daddy!” Grace bounces, slapping the comforter. “Present!”

Brad looks back at Nate. “You know it’s not actually my birthday, right?”

“You have duty on your birthday.” Nate smiles, shrugs again. “We’re being proactive.”

“Present!” Grace snaps like an order.

“She needs to stop hanging out with you.” Brad quirks a smile. “She’s getting bossy.”

“Yeah, sorry. I think that’s an inherited trait.” Nate comes over and sits on the edge of the bed, his thigh next to Brad’s hand. Brad brushes his fingers against Nate’s skin just below the hem of his boxers. “Okay, Grace.”

“Yay!” She slithers off the bed and disappears into the hallway.

“Sneaky.” Brad grabs Nate’s t-shirt in his fist and tugs him in for a kiss, hot and hungry and far too short.

“You’ll get my present later,” Nate promises against Brad’s mouth. “Though topping her gift is going to be tough.”

“According to my data, you do just fine topping.” Brad laughs and kisses him again. “Should I be afraid?”

“A big, burly Marine like you?” Nate pulls back, grinning. “You bet your ass.”

“Can’t do that. My ass is someone else’s property.” Brad rubs a thumb over Nate’s lower lip.

“Your present’s already bought and paid for. Don’t even try to butter me up.”

“Butter, huh? _Kinky_.”

“Daddy! Present!” Grace runs back into the room carrying a box almost as big as her. She narrowly avoids slamming into the doorframe, dodging at the last minute.

“Swear to god, sometimes the only way to explain her is that she’s part Ray Person.” Brad shakes his head as Nate hoists Grace and the box up onto the bed. Grace shoves the box at Brad, tripping on the bedspread, tumbling, box and all, into Brad’s lap.

Nate bites back a grin. “I’m beginning to think her name’s a little ironic.”

Brad smiles and settles Grace on one leg. “Don’t listen to Uncle Nate. He’s teasing you, and you’re not allowed to kick his butt yet.” He wraps an arm around her and looks the box over. “New motorcycle?”

Grace laughs. “No, Daddy! It’s…”

“No, let me guess. Hmm.” He furrows his brow as he looks at the box then gives her a smile. “A new TV?”

“No! Daddy! You’re silly!”

“There’s an adjective I wouldn’t have ever thought to hear in conjunction with you.” Nate trails his fingers lightly over the bedspread, tracing Brad’s knee.

“I’m an enigma.” Brad fingers the bow. “Like to keep things interesting.”

“Oh, there was never _any_ danger of this not being interesting.” Nate gets up and moves to his side of the bed, sitting next to Grace. “You’d better open that before she has a fit and hides under the bed again.”

“Aye, aye.” Brad sets Grace between them and pulls the bow off, placing it on Nate’s head. Nate smirks and passes it down to Grace. The pale pink matches the textured bottom of her footie pajamas.

“Open, Daddy!” Brad follows orders, pulling the paper apart where it’s joined by the tape. Grace climbs into Nate’s lap, leaning against his arm as he tries to keep her from falling forward. “LT help it, Daddy!”

“Open the box, Brad.” Nate’s eyes are dancing and Brad pauses for a minute to lean in and kiss him. Nate hums against his mouth, smiling as Brad pulls back and drops a kiss on the top of Grace’s head.

“You want to help, monkey?”

Nate lets go and Grace opens the box, digging out sheet after sheet of pink tissue paper in every hue imaginable, flinging them everywhere until the bedroom looks like a Pepto Bismol factory exploded. “Kate helped.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” Brad’s voice is dry as he pushes the paper to the floor. “Apparently she’s still dangerous 1200 miles away.”

“Your sister, the long-range weapon.”

Grace has crawled halfway inside the box, and Brad carefully eases her out and back onto the bed. He reaches in and frowns slightly when his hand encounters the contents. He eases them free, his eyes widening. “Wow. Well.”

“Kitty! Kitty!” Grace grabs the blue slippers and crawls under the covers, heading down toward Brad’s feet.

“Kitty slippers?” Brad’s dry tone causes Nate’s smile to widen.

“She picked them out all by herself. Running around the store shouting, ‘Pussy! Pussy!’ So if Child Protective Services calls…”

Brad lifts up the covers and looks at Grace, tongue sticking out as she determinedly tries to get the slippers on Brad’s feet. “You okay, LT?”

She nods and giggles. “Daddy has funny feet.”

“They’re ticklish, too,” Nate informs her.

“Oh. You did _not_ just…” Brad starts laughing as Grace’s stubby fingers graze over the soles of his feet. He shifts back down onto the mattress and grabs Nate and kisses him, burying the sound in Nate’s mouth, doing his best not to squirm away from Grace.

“Tickle Daddy! Tickle, Uncle Nate! Tickle Daddy!”

“No! No!” Brad’s gasping with laughter as Nate’s fingers move to skate over his sides. “I surrender!”

Nate laughs. “You surrender? How did you make it through BRC again?”

Brad eases away from Nate and lifts the covers again, watching Grace as she puts the slippers on his feet – on the wrong feet – before crawling up between them. She squeezes between them where she can, snuggling up on Brad’s chest along the curve of Nate’s body where he lies against Brad, head on his shoulder. Brad reaches out and brushes Grace’s hair off her forehead, then does the same to the mussed strands that shade Nate’s eyes. “Sometimes surrendering means you win.”

“Cake now?” Grace asks with a yawn.

“Pretty soon, baby girl,” Brad promises, moving them closer to Nate. He closes his eyes as Grace snuggles between them. “Pretty soon.”

**

Brad’s sitting at the kitchen table almost a week later, reading the paper and finishing breakfast. His toast and coffee are mostly forgotten as he skims the words, relaxing for the first time in days. He’s been on maneuvers and duty pretty much non-stop and he hasn’t been home for more than a couple of hours at a stretch since his impromptu birthday party. Even now he should be in bed, catching up on sleep, but even after crashing at six AM, sleeping past ten had been impossible.

The back door opens and Nate walks in, arms full of grocery bags. He’s dressed in his charcoal gray suit, the spring green tie pulled away from his neck. Brad rustles the paper and Nate looks his way, eyes skimming down Brad’s body – white tank top, blue boxers and the matching baby blue kitty slippers – before he looks at Brad’s face. Brad sees the flash of heat when Nate realizes Brad’s wearing his glasses.

“It’s not even ten. I thought you’d still be asleep.” He sets the bags on the counter. “What time did you get in?”

“Got off duty at five. Rode around for an hour or so.”

Nate smiles at him, his eyes distracted by the slippers. “I should have let her get the pink ones, you know.” Nate leans against the counter and pours himself a cup of coffee.

“Then they wouldn’t match my boxers.”

“Oh, I’d have bought you a pink pair.”

Brad makes a face. Nate smiles and takes a sip from his cup then starts putting the groceries away. “Speaking of our fashion guru,” Brad lets the words draw out, slowly, playfully as he gets to his feet and comes up behind Nate, wrapping his arms around Nate’s waist. “You didn’t trade her in for the last bag of white peaches again, did you?”

“One time!” Nate bitches playfully, his smile teasing in Brad’s peripheral vision. “Do something _one_ time, and you never let me live it down.”

Brad laughs warmly against Nate’s neck, just above his collar. “Well?”

“She’s with your birthday present.”

“You got me a pony?”

Nate turns in Brad’s arms. “No. I got someone to watch Grace for the weekend.” He skims his fingers lightly over the curve of Brad’s ass through his boxers. “And, your other present, while not a pony, is something for you to ride.”

“Well, well.” Brad nuzzles at Nate’s mouth. “Happy birthday to me.”

“I got stuff for dinner and for-” Nate breaks off as Brad’s fingers slip under the knot of Nate’s tie. “What are you doing?”

“Unwrapping my present.”

“I need to put the food away.”

Brad sighs dramatically and shakes his head, stepping back. “Cocktease.”

Nate rolls his eyes and starts putting the food away, bending over to rearrange things in the refrigerator. Brad watches him hungrily, noting the way Nate’s suit fits against his ass as he squats, the fabric pulling slightly. Nate glances back over his shoulder as if he feels Brad’s eyes on him. “What?”

“Nothing. Didn’t say a word.” Brad hoists himself up on the counter and spreads his legs as Nate straightens up, grabs another bag, and squats back down. Brad makes a low noise of pleasure as Nate’s pants tighten again across the curve of his ass, can feel it right in the palm of his hand.

Nate stands and turns, looking at him. “ _What_?”

Brad shakes his head and tugs at his boxers, easing them over his cock. He’s not completely hard, but there’s definite stiffening, especially as he wraps his hand around his length. Nate makes a noise at the back of his throat and shuts the refrigerator door.

“That’s not sanitary,” Nate informs him dryly.

Brad laughs low and braces his heels on the cabinet doors beneath him. “I fucked you in Iraq with sand and sweat and whatever weird shit that was that you got from Rudy and you’re worried about our _kitchen_?”

“Point.” Nate walks over to him and leans in, back straight as if he’s about to do a set of pushups, hands braced on either side of Brad’s thighs, thumbs curved over the edge of the counter. He leans in and blows a hot breath along Brad’s dick. “Look at you.”

“Look the same as always.”

Nate lifts one hand to trail a finger across the head of Brad’s dick. He lifts the finger to his mouth, sucking the pre-come off of it. “Never get tired of the view.” Nate smiles and presses his hand flat to the counter again. He lowers himself down to Brad’s cock, leaning into him as he licks the head directly. He huffs another breath, this one almost a soft laugh, and then he takes Brad in his mouth, sucking in slow increments down his length.

“Oh, fuck.” Brad’s hips arch upward and he leans back against the cupboard, one hand on the counter and the other wrapped around the sink faucet for support. Nate’s fully dressed - his dark jacket fitted to his shoulders and tapering to his waist, the slit of the jacket falling apart to expose the curve of his ass, the hint of white of his cuffs as his hands shift, and the tease of green from his tie. It’s discordant from Nate’s mouth – hot and wet and wanton – though both hit Brad deep in the gut, coiling heat. “Yes.”

Nate makes a sound around Brad and his mouth opens wider, taking Brad deeper. He can feel the soft flesh at the back of Nate’s throat in the instant before Nate adjusts. Brad’s overwhelmed with the desire to curve his hand around the back of Nate’s head and just fuck his mouth, hard and relentless. His hands tighten into fists, and he curbs the impulse, letting Nate set the pace.

Nate takes Brad deep, pressure and suction all over Brad’s dick. Brad growls low in his throat. “ _More_.”

Nate makes a noise and shifts closer. Brad can feel saliva slither down his dick to his balls as Nate takes him further into his mouth. It’s like torture as it slides down slowly, an itch he can’t scratch.

He grinds down against the counter and his head falls back as Nate opens his mouth slightly, relieving the pressure, and then his teeth scrape ever so lightly from the base to just under the ridge of Brad’s dick.

“O-oh, fucking…fuck.” Brad comes before he even knows what he’s doing, spilling into Nate’s mouth, hot and tight around him again. He can feel the path of each tooth like a brand on his skin; the flat of Nate’s tongue soothes the underside as it presses Brad’s prick into the roof of Nate’s mouth. Brad’s hand slips and he knocks over Nate’s coffee cup and slams his head back against the cupboard.

Nate pulls off slowly, a Cheshire Cat grin on his face. His lips are red and swollen, smeared wet with spit and spunk. “Careful.”

“Careful?” It’s a full-on warning and Brad slides off the counter. His knees threaten to give way, but Nate’s closeness keeps him upright. With a hard shove, he pushes Nate back toward the wall, pinning him there with his body. “We’re alone in the house. Careful isn’t in my fucking vocabulary.”

Brad slips his knee between Nate’s legs, edging them further apart. Nate’s cock is hard beneath his suit trousers, jerking against the pressure of Brad’s hand as he palms it. Nate makes a noise and then bites his lip to quiet it. Brad leans in, licking at Nate’s lips and teeth.

“Make noise. Want to hear you.” Nate nods, eyes blown wide with want as Brad undoes Nate’s trousers. “Want to hear you beg. Want to hear you whimper. Want to hear you scream.” Brad sinks down, tugging Nate’s pants and boxer-briefs with him. He looks up at Nate, watching his reactions as Brad’s hands slide up and down his bare thighs, palms rasping against the fine hair. “Fuck, I want to hear everything, Nate.”

Nate moans softly, thrusting his hips forward. His cock brushes against Brad’s mouth, pre-come staining his lips. “Suck me.”

“You’re not the boss of me anymore,” Brad reminds him with a grin, leaning in to breathe against the dark hairs at the base of Nate’s cock. “Don’t have to do what you say.”

“Brad,” Nate groans, hips pushing forward again. Brad ignores him, intent on nuzzling and nipping at the sensitive skin and short hairs, licking a slow circle around the thick base. “Fuck.”

Brad pushes Nate’s trousers to the floor, wraps a hand around Nate’s calf to guide them and his shoe off so he can open Nate up. So he can spread Nate’s legs wider.

Nate’s head falls back against the wall and he moves willingly wherever Brad guides him. Leaning in again, Brad brushes two fingers against Nate’s perineum then presses just at the base of his balls, his palm cupping them against his fingers. Nate’s breath hitches and his cock jerks again.

“Look at you,” Brad’s voice holds the same warm tone that Nate’s had earlier.

“Not new terrain,” Nate gasps, trying to roll his hips, wanting pressure from Brad’s hand. Brad keeps his hold loose on Nate’s balls, not giving in. His mouth nuzzles the cut of Nate’s abdomen, the flat plane stretching from Nate’s hip to his cock. “Don’t even need the Blue Force Tracker for this AO.”

“No,” Brad agrees. “Know you by heart.” He licks the head of Nate’s cock, his fingers sliding back against his opening. “Don’t I?”

“Y-yes.” Nate gasps as Brad takes him deep, sucking him into his mouth. Brad’s fingers rub his asshole slowly with the barest hint of pressure, forcing Nate to rock forward into the curve of his palm, squeezing his balls.

Brad hums softly, moving into Nate so that his lips brush the base of Nate’s cock again, Nate’s dick rubbing the back of his throat. Brad’s mouth constricts tightly around Nate, holding him there mid-thrust. Nate’s hips rut forward, struggling against Brad’s hold. Nate makes a sound that Brad’s never heard before – wanton and frustrated all at once - and it goes straight to his cock. He loosens his mouth and Nate starts moving again, more frantic than before, hands curving around the back of Brad’s head.

Using his free hand, Brad smoothes Nate’s shirt up his body, exposing his stomach. His thumb traces slow, lazy circles that don’t match the pace of Nate’s dick fucking his mouth, but the disparity keeps Brad focused, keeps Nate off-balance.

Nate grips Brad’s head even harder, pulling him in close. Brad tightens his mouth around him again and sucks deeply until Nate goes still, coming deep and hot in Brad’s throat.

Brad pulls back slowly, waiting until the spasms of Nate’s body have slowed to shudders before he eases away from Nate’s cock, licking his lips as he settles back on his heels. “Anything going to go bad any time soon?”

“N-no.” Nate shakes his head, eyes glazed and hot. “No.”

“Good.” Brad stands up and moves into Nate, kissing him hard and possessive. “Let’s go to bed.”

 


End file.
